Looking at things another way
by birdcloudhigh
Summary: A story about how everything can change when two people meet.
1. Prologue

**I only watched the movie version of the musical (there isn't much of a chance of seeing the stage show here in Germany) and just started reading the brick, so this whole story is somehow based on the movie and on what I learned in other fanfics (street names, …). I also have decided to leave out Azelma in this story. Gavroche will be Éponine's only sibling.**

**This is also my very first fanfic. Ever. **

**And my first attempt at creative writing in English. So expect mistakes. Tell me if you find some and I'll correct them as soon as possible.**

**The story starts a few weeks before Lamarque's death and the barricades.**

* * *

Prologue

Éponine had never been that kind of person who would let someone else define who she is. She stood by her opinions, she knew what she wanted, she knew what she couldn't get and she knew what she had to do in order to survive. All until she met Marius Pontmercy.

She had accepted the way of the world, she knew her bleak prospects. With her parents – people who rarely deserve to be called by that name- always drunk or plotting some plan to get to money and her brother gone to live in the streets, she had lived through a lot for her young age, always on her own. Maybe this is why Marius' kindliness affected her so much. She simply wasn't used to it.

She was used to work as a lookout for her father. She was used to be forced to steal. She was used to being beaten when money was short and her father was in a rage, drunk or both for that matter. She was used to starve. She was used to the ways of the poor – the staring, intrusive way of the drunkards at night; the dangerous friends of her father threatening everyone that crossed their way; the sick and hungry dying on the streets of Paris.

There was no such thing as hope in her. What could someone like her hope for?

But then, she met Marius, a bourgeois boy. The one who was the first to treat her like a human being. The first who showed her what friendliness makes you feel like. The first she thought she fell in love with.

* * *

Enjolras was sitting at his usual table in the cafe Musain. Right in front of him were piles of books and papers, there was not an inch of the table not covered with his work. He was so lost in his plans of the upcoming revolution that he barely noticed the world around him. Of course he knew which of his friends were at the cafe because he would eventually ask their opinion on something he wrote or read. But anyone else was invisible. While dreaming of a new world he forgot the world that was around him right now. Even when he delivered one of his famous speeches he never really saw any of his listeners. They were only a faceless mass of people, they were the people of France. It didn't matter if he talked to 10 people or the 100, all of them were France.

He has been planning the revolution for some time now. He read all the great books about all the great leaders. He talked to people who fought in the last revolution. He analyzed every single event. In a few weeks time theory was supposed to become reality. The barricades would rise. They would fight. And France would be reborn. That was his dream. No, it was more than a dream. To Enjolras this was without a doubt his future.

* * *

Little they knew...


	2. Chapter 1

**I actually wanted to update earlier but I was a little hungover. Tons of food (cookies, I blame you!), alcohol and only a few hours of sleep don't help me be productive. **

**So, sorry for being a little late with my chapter.**

**I hope you enjoy it. (And tell me, if you do :) )**

1st Chapter

It was an ordinary night at the cafe. The boys were discussing something, their leader was sitting at his table in the corner and Grantaire, the always drunk student, was sound asleep – cuddling with his bottle. Éponine didn't really care what they did. She was sitting in her corner, her eyes fixed on the entrance, not paying attention to anything around her. To the people in the cafe she was just as invisible as they were to her. She was waiting for Marius to arrive.

The things with Marius became more and more difficult. It all started about a week ago. She was just telling him a funny story about her drunk father kissing a mirror thinking it was her mother, when Marius interrupted her story to ask her the name of a girl that just walked by. She didn't know right away, so he begged her to find out. And for him she did find out who that girl was. She knew her as a child, they lived together for quite a while at her parents inn. Cosette. It seemed like the odds were in her favor, because she became everything Éponine once was, while Éponine's life changed into something even worse than little Cosettes.

As if this wasn't enough to hate her, there was something even worse. Marius fell in love with her. It only took him a glimpse of her and suddenly she was all he was talking about. Éponine was quite aware that he wasn't in love with her. She knew that. And she knew that he might never be. But as long as he hadn't found anyone else, she could dream – and she dreamed vividly. That was over now. Before he met her, they were as much friends as was possible between a bourgeois student and a street urchin. Now, she was nothing but a carrier pigeon delivering his love letters to Cosette. He began to use her just like all other people did. She knew that, but somehow she still couldn't stay away from him. Regardless how much it hurt her.

She stayed close to him because that's what love makes you do. And she was in love. But not with Marius. Éponine didn't know, but she only wasin love with the idea of love, the idea of something that seemed so unlikely in her world. That's how it started. With all those terrible things around her, she needed this – something so colorful compared to her dark reality. So she did the most human thing possible, she lived in that dream.

But a week ago, her dream started to become more and more of a nightmare.

Marius was late that night. He apologized, telling them how he had lost track in time when he was with Cosette this afternoon. This apology was nothing but an excuse to chew everyone's ear off with his story about their day. He didn't even realize how everyone started mocking him – just as he didn't realize Éponine was there, in the corner, waiting for him. It became his usual habit to ignore her until he needed her to do something for him or until he was sick of the other students' mockery. Éponine wouldn't mock him, she would stay silent until he finished and went back to the other boys. In fact she tried not to listen.

This night, he didn't come over to her. She watched him from the distance for a while and then waited for an opportune moment to leave unnoticed. That moment came, when the the leader of Les Amis closed his books, and rose from his table in the corner to give his nightly speech to finish off the day at the cafe. Sometimes she stayed to listen. But not tonight. As Enjolras spoke his first words, Éponine left the warmth and light of the cafe for the dark streets of Paris.

* * *

Enjolras had just finished his speech – something he used to do every night to keep his friends focused on their cause – and 'Vive La France!' was echoing off the walls of the Musain. He went back to his table – he chose the one in the corner to stay as far away from any distraction as possible – but Joly stopped him halfway there. The medical student looked concerned.

"What is it, Joly?" Enjolras asked. "Is something wrong? Is someone sick? Whois it?"

"Well... It's you I worry about. Wait... Let me finish!" he added, as Enjolras rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to interrupt him. "Have you seen yourself lately? You look tired. You barely ever sleep, you never really stop long enough to eat or drink. You cannot keep on living like that."

"Joly, I don't have time to stop. There is a revolution to plan, a people to rise. I need to plan it through. Otherwise it will end just like the last one. With another fool on the throne of France. And I cannot let that happen."

"Enjolras, I know. But if you don't look after yourself our revolution won't have its leader when we need him the most. You need to be as strong and healthy as possible when the barricades rise. You know that. Just call it a night." Joly stared at him, knowing he just said the only thing that could make Enjolras listen to his words. _The revolution needed it._ And for the revolution he would listen.

Enjolras nodded and continued his way to the table. He gathered his things, chose two books he wanted to take to his apartment – and for the first time in a long while he wasn't the last one to leave.

He took a detour to his apartment. Once he felt the cold breeze in his face he couldn't just go straight home. Paris at night was as beautiful as dangerous. He avoided all the smaller streets as much as possible. It was surprisingly soothing to walk along without having to focus on anything. His paperwork and books were not the only reason he was so tired and worn out.

Enjolras felt like something was missing in his plans. It drove him mad. Self-doubt crept up on him every night – as soon as the lights went out he felt the weight of the pressure on his chest suffocating him. No one knew that this was the other reason he avoided sleep. No one was ever allowed to know. How could they ever believe in his words when they knew he doubted himself?

But did he want them to believe him? To die for his dream of a free France? As much as he believed in his dream, as much as he wanted it to become reality – the price was high. He was well aware of the fact, that not all his friends would make it out of the revolution alive. Just like he might die. Enjolras would gladly give his life for this cause, but how could he know if the other were as willing to die as he was? Could he condemn them to death? They were his friends. When he spoke in public places he didn't focus on any individual. He spoke to a faceless mass. It was easier that way, not knowing who he convinced to fight along with him.

Enjolras closed his eyes and thought about the only thing that would pull him out of these dark thoughts. France how he planned it. Equality for everyone. No beggars, no starving, no one uneducated, no one forced into a life they didn't deserve. This was worth every price.

As he took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, a scream was cutting like knife through the silence of the sleeping Paris.


	3. Chapter 2

**I know, it was a little too obvious that Éponine was the one in danger. But anyways, I hope you still like it. I'm sorry for any kind of strange use of words or bad grammar or anything like that. It's really late here and I'm really tired.**

**Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Chapter 2

Éponine held her breath.

She did not dare to breath, every little movement she made had the knife at her throat cut a little deeper into her skin. It was her fault. Why did she have to scream? Usually she stayed silent – loud noises were dangerous in situations such as this. She knew that. But the man took her by surprise and the scream was only a reflex. She wasn't able to control it.

Normally she was more cautious at night, but tonight she was so lost in thoughts that she took the wrong street at the wrong time. It was not the first time that happened. Paris was a dangerous place during daytime, but that was nothing compared to the dangers under the screen of night.

When she was lucky she would only cross paths with thieves that did not bother even looking at her direction. What was there to steal from someone who could not even afford enough food to look less like a skeleton? Others did not want her money. Up until today she had always been able to get away from those kind of guys. Up until today none of them was holding a knife to her throat.

Éponine closed her eyes. To let him do whatever he wanted to do was the safest thing she could think of. And to close her eyes always helped her with the guys her father set her up with whenever money was shorter than it usually was. Needless to say that this man here was not willing to pay for what he got.

She felt his alcoholic breath on her face as his hands traveled farther and farther south, gripping her skirt and lifting it. Terribly slowly.

All of a sudden he stopped. She wanted this to be over as fast as possible, so why did he have to stop now? She could still feel the air coming from his mouth on her forehead and the cold iron of the knife on the neck and the rest of his body pressing her onto the wall.

"I thought... was there someone?" Éponine could feel him turning his head away from her towards the other end of the street.

A moment later he turned back towards her. He buried his face in her hair.

"No one", he grunted into her ear as he continued where he stopped a few moments ago.

* * *

Enjolras was slowly creeping forward in the shadows of the dark alley. He knew the man threatening the young girl had heard him, but after a glance in the wrong direction he simply went on with his crime. He must be either very drunk or utterly stupid. No matter what it was, it made him dangerous. Enjolras needed the element of surprise – otherwise the man might use the knife he held in his hand.

He was getting closer to them. He saw how he pressed her against the wall. He saw how he lifted her skirt farther up. He took a few faster steps until he stood right behind the man. The girl didn't see him, her eyes were tightly pressed together as if to shut out everything that happened.

He felt the weight of the brick in hand as he lifted his arm, reached back and let it crash on the drunks head. With a hollow thud the mans unconscious body fell to the ground.

Enjolras took in the sight of the girl that stood before him, eyes wide in shock. She seemed familiar. Yes, he was sure he had seen her at the cafe a few times.

As he examined her face he saw a cut at her jawline and a smaller one at her throat. Automatically he raised his hand as if to wipe away the blood from her face.

* * *

Éponine turned her head away as she saw the revolutionary's hand reach out for her head. The man's knife found her face on this way to the ground and obviously lefts its mark. She wiped the blood away. It wasn't a deep cut, just like the one at her throat.

What did the student do here? It wasn't really the neighborhood one would expect to find him. But however he got there and for whatever reason he came to her rescue – now he was standing right in front of her, his eyes emotionlessly examining her for injuries.

"Did he hurt you?", he asked.

Her hand flew to her cheek to cover the cut there.

"No.", Éponine whispered.

"Are you sure? Do you need a doctor?"

"No.", she repeated, still whispering. "I … I need to go."

And she turned around and started walking towards the main street. She only was a few steps ahead as he called after her.

"Tell me, what is your name?"

* * *

The girl stopped and turned back. There was an angry gleam in her eyes as she stared right into his face. She walked back until she stood right in front of him, without even blinking.

"Really? The fearless leader of the revolution to come wants to free the poor of France and doesn't even care enough to remember the names of those who come to the cafe like him?", she asked with a voice that could freeze the sun.

Enjolras was speechless. Hadn't he just saved her from that guy? And what happened to girl who could only whisper just seconds ago? The great orator was out of words.

Especially because she was true. There was nothing to argue about that. He did not know her name. She was one of those who he was fighting for, she attended the meetings at the cafe regularly – as one of the very few ones that were not students like himself and his friends – and yet she was no one to him. Only a face that seemed familiar.

The girl kept staring at him, waiting for him to say something. But he remained silent. That only seemed to anger her more.

"Your revolution will fail, you know?"

Those words hit him like a bullets in his chest. He gasped. Nobody ever dared to say something like that to him. No one ever doubted him. He felt like all the air was pressed out of his lungs. Of course the revolution was going to be successful.

As he was trying to compose himself the girl turned around to leave.

* * *

Éponine didn't know why she said that. Why was she so rude to him? After all he just saved her. What does it matter if he remembers her name? Couldn't she just have thanked him? That would have been the normal thing to do.

She felt ashamed. Not only for her rude behavior but also that he saw her like that. Defenselessly pinned to the wall. Depending on his help. Éponine didn't like to depend on anyone. She didn't like to be in others debts. Now she might even owe him her life. And what does she do? Say the worst thing she could have possibly said. Typical.

Halfway down the way out the alley she turned around one last time to find him still frozen in place.

"Éponine. My name is Éponine.", she silently said before she left him standing there alone in he dark.


	4. Chapter 3

**I am totally sorry it took me so long to update. But I was too busy during the week. And my weekend sucked so I though I might wait until I feel a little less like killing all the characters in my story. (Don't worry – nobody dies in this chapter.)**

**So tell me what you think of it!**

* * *

Chapter 3

Enjolras was early that day. He didn't sleep for long, he spend most of the early morning wide awake in his apartment, thinking about what that girl was talking about. Éponine. So there was not really a reason to stay home. That's why he left for the cafe as soon as was appropriate. At least that's what he told himself.

He was still more than speechless. Her words were echoing in his mind.

_Your revolution will fail, you know? _

No. He didn't. He didn't know that because it wasn't true. It cannot fail. And it will not fail.

So why did she say that? He could read this question on his eyelids every time he closed his eyes. He heard it in screaming in his head in each little moment of silence. As the adrenaline of last nights events left his body and he drifted into sleep it was his last thought. As he woke up in the morning it was his first. He didn't understand. And it drove him mad.

As he entered the cafe, his eyes wandered through the room. A few of his friends were already there. Grantaire obviously didn't make it home, as he was lying in the corner – accompanied by two obviously empty bottles of wine. Combeferre had obviously put his jacket underneath the drunks head. Across the room Joly was sitting, looking in this direction. Enjolras walked over and sat down next to him.

"Well, I thought I told you to get some sleep?", the medical student greeted him.

"I tried. But sleep left me sooner than I wanted."

"Why? Is something wrong? I thought after all that sleep deprivation you would sleep like a log. I didn't expect you here until noon the earliest."

"Nothing is wrong. I guess it was the adrenaline.", Enjolras started. He told Joly everything that happened the night before. Everything but except for Éponine's reaction. He stopped his story after the man who tried to rape her hit the ground.

"If you don't mind, you could have a look on her injuries. It was dark and I don't know how deep the knife cut her.", he finished his story.

"Of course. I just hope it isn't infected yet. That knife surely wasn't the cleanest.", Joly answered.

And again Enjolras eyes wandered over each corner of the room. She wasn't there.

_Isn't it ironic?_, he thought to himself. All those times she was there and he didn't notice. And then when he wanted her to be there, she was absent.

Sweet irony.

* * *

It was late afternoon. Éponine stood in the shadow of an archway. She watched the cafe from a distance. As much as she wanted to go there and wait for Marius, she couldn't bring herself to go one step closer to it. Usually the leader – Enjolras – never really noticed her being there. Would that be different today? After what she said the night before – would he kick her out? Why wouldn't he?

How could have been so terrible that night before? She wanted to thank him, but next to apologizing this was the thing she hated saying the most. It was weakness. And she fought it he only way she knew she could. With hurting.

So she made it clear what she thought about his revolution. And she didn't lie. She was certain it would fail. Maybe she did thank him somehow – with giving him the truth, an objective view on what will happen. But still, it made her not feel less sorry, less ashamed for her behavior.

As she stood there, lost in thought, she nearly screamed as Marius suddenly stood before her.

He wanted her to deliver another letter. She hoped this would stop, now that Cosette and him used to secretly meet. Cosettes father was rather protective. That's why they still needed letters, Marius told her. He wanted to ask Cosette about their next meeting. And he wanted his answer as soon as possible. She was supposed to wait at the fence until Cosette handed her her answer.

"Then just bring it to me. I'll be in the cafe waiting for it."

And for the first time, she wanted to deny him this favor.

* * *

Today it was harder to work on his speech. Every step that came from the direction of the staircase made Enjolras glance up in there. He didn't take his usual table in the corner today. For the first time ever he didn't shut out everything around him. He was waiting. And with each minute he grew more impatient and frustrated.

He knew that the others found his behavior odd. And it was. But he needed to know what Éponine was talking about. And he would ask her.

He was massaging his temples. That headache was the result of his lack of sleep.

"Here, take a glass of wine. It helps with headaches.", Grantaire said as he came over and put a glass in front of him.

"I doubt that."

"Well, ask Joly."

"I don't like to admit it, but he has a point here Enjolras. It does help sometimes.", Joly – standing nearby – answered.

"I doesn't really matter. I need a clear head to finish this.", he said, glancing over to Joly.

"Take it or leave it.", Grantaire answered, took the last slug out of his bottle, and left for the bar.

Just as he turned his head back to his work, he heard a sound coming from the stairs. Footsteps. A girl came into his view. A girl in man's clothing. Not that it would fool him now that he waited for so long.

Finally.

* * *

**Actually the chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, but I thought a short update might be better than none, right?**


	5. Chapter 4

**I am so sorry for updating so late. I know, I say that all the time, but I am. There is just so much to do that "writing my next chapter" happens while I am giving private math lessons. My students are having their finals next Monday, so I spend all my free time tutoring them. And all of their questions keep me from writing. :)**

**But anyways, this chapter is a little longer than the other ones, so I hope you hate me a little less for making you wait so long.**

**Tell me what you think.**

**(And I know that most of my commas are probably wrong. Why does this have to be different than in German. I'm so good at it...)**

**Oh and before I forget it: A huge thanks and a giant imaginary cookie to **ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo**for being wonderful and reviewing every chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 4

Éponine tried to be as quiet as possible as she went upstairs. She didn't want to be seen by anyone but Marius. Usually, that was no problem. Nobody ever really noticed her and she just kept to herself. Today, she wasn't so sure this would be that easy.

All she wanted was deliver that stupid letter and leave.

As she looked up she met a pair of piercing deep blue eyes. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. Enjolras was staring at her. She blushed. It wasn't easy to make her blush, but he just did it. Éponine was so ashamed about that night before. About what he saw, about what her life was like, about how she reacted.

About what terrible things she said. Just right after he saved her.

She quickly looked away. Luckily she didn't have to search for Marius, he was walking right over to her. No, he wasn't walking. Running would be the better word. Seeing him so eager to read this letter felt like hot needles piercing through every inch of her skin. But still, this eagerness was welcome now. It gave her the chance to leave as soon as the piece of paper left her hand.

As soon as Marius had what he wanted he walked back to where he sat earlier. No hello. No thank you. No anything.

She turned around to leave.

But just as she tried to sneak away unnoticed– two steps down the staircase – she froze, as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

* * *

Enjolras was frustrated – even more than he was before. For the whole day, he had waited for her to arrive. And just as he had the chance to go after her – to talk to her, Joly was touching her shoulder to stop her, to bring her to the small room downstairs. Why did he ask her to take a look at her injuries? His headache only got worse.

_Wait, what did I just think?, _he asked himself. How could he be so selfish? Of course she should be examined. The frustration together with the pain that clouded his mind gave him less room to think clearly. He waited the whole day for her, a few more minutes wouldn't kill him.

Before his impatience could win him over, he sat back down and looked into the opened book he had just left – his hands on his temples.

"You really should try the wine, you know? It helps.", Grantaire yelled from the other side of the room. Enjolras just looked at him, raised an eyebrow and shook his head causing a fresh wave of pain washing over his consciousness.

* * *

In that moment this hand touched her shoulders she had two possible scenarios in mind: first – Marius. He would want her to stay – only to wait before she could take his answer to Cosette, of course. The other possibility was Enjolras. This was the worse alternative. He was probably ready to make her a scene._ A well deserved one_, she thought.

So she was more than surprised to see Joly, the medical student, standing right in front of her.

"You are Éponine, right?"

She nodded, still too confused to say anything. Him staring at her face and her neck didn't help her clear her mind. _What the hell does he want from me?_

"Well, this doesn't look good", he said, pointing at the cut on her cheek. "Let me take a look at it. There is a room downstairs, I have some of my medical things there. It's actually the first few things I brought here for the wounded I will have to face once it's time for the barricade. I cannot bring everything at once, one might find it strange if all of a sudden I try to get all that."

As he said this, he already walked down the stairs – not even giving her the choice to argue with him. She didn't want to be examined. This was only a little cut. Nothing critical at all. Maybe if she just let him talk, she could sneak out the door before...

"My name is Joly, by the way." He turned around. _Merde, _she thought.

* * *

It only took a few minutes and they were finished. Joly kept on babbling about how he sneaked all the medical supplies into the cafe. She didn't mind. In fact, she began to like him. He was easy to be around, she didn't have to talk about anything, she could just sit there and listen.

Not to mention his hilarious fear to get infected with anything. One just had to like him.

He had looked at her two cuts and the giant hand-shaped bruise on her upper arm. Without asking much about how she got it, about which she was glad. He cleaned her wounds with alcohol and water and gave her some herbs she was supposed to put in hot water and then on her cuts. He claimed that might help avoiding a scar.

She could at least give it a try, she thought.

"Everything looks quite good. You took great care of it yourself, actually. No infection. Just keep it that clean and everything will be just fine. But that bruise on your arm will stay for a little while, I fear. There is nothing I can do against that. Ugh, it looks painful."

"It's not the first bruise of that kind I ever had. I'll survive. And it's not that painful as long as no one touches it." The med student laughed. As he examined the hand print, he pressed a little too hard on it. She nearly kicked him out of reflex. He had been lucky he had good reflexes, too.

"And... ehm... thanks.", she added.

"Anytime. Practicing for the future is always good. So if there is anything I can help you with, feel free to come."

"Okay... so I have to leave now. Th.. thanks again.", she said as she turned to leave.

"Are you not waiting for the speech?"

"No, I really need to go."

And so she did.

* * *

As he waited for Joly and Éponine to come back, Enjolras was thinking about how he would approach her after last night. He knew he did something wrong. Otherwise she wouldn't have reacted like this. He would be more careful now, he told himself.

Just as he tried to put together his start for the planned conversation, Joly came up into the room. Enjolras expected Éponine to follow right after him, but there was no one. There was no sound of other footsteps on the stairs, no sign of her.

She must have left.

If he thought about it now, he wondered why he even expected her to come back here. After she gave Pontmercy some kind of letter, she was leaving. She was on her way out as Joly stopped her. Of course she would not be coming back here. She just followed her original plan.

As Enjolras passed Joly on his way out, he muttered something about fresh air helping with his headache and that he'll be back in a while.

* * *

As Éponine left the cafe, she had no idea where to go. The sun was setting and after yesterday she didn't want to just walk along the streets of Paris in the dark. She stopped after a few steps. Where would she go now?

Usually she would go and meet Gavroche, her brother. He ran away from home a while ago and lived with some other kids in the streets. But he would be at the cafe tonight. He wasn't there yesterday and he never missed two days in a row. All those speeches about revolution and equality were like fairy tales for him. And as every kid, he believed them. They were promising such colorful and happy things, she could not blame him for it. And all the students adored Gav. Especially Courfeyrac. Gavroche was basically glued to him, looking up to him like he was the big brother he never had.

She hated to admit it, but the only place to go now was home.

Home. Éponine tried to spend as little time as possible there since her parents started including her into their money making. Usually she sneaked into the house when they were gone or sleeping or too drunk to notice. And most times they didn't notice. Some times they did. The hand-shaped bruise on her arm was not the doing of that stranger last night. She hoped that today she was luckier.

As she took a few steps into the side-street that would take her home she felt – for the second time that day – a hand on her shoulder stopping her.

* * *

Enjolras was glad he was able to catch her. She just left his view into a side-street as he left the cafe. He ran after her. He wouldn't lose her. He would get his answer.

His hand on her shoulder was what stopped her.

"Éponine?"

She turned around, a shocked expression on her face.

"Oh.", was all that escaped her mouth.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you. I wondered if I could accompany you for a while?"

* * *

**Sorry for ending this chapter before they actually talk. I'm just having as much of a headache as Enjolras and I guess I need a clear mind for writing that part.**


	6. Chapter 5

**So here it is. Finally. The conversation I actually wanted to put in the end of Chapter 3. **

**But somehow the story took over the writing and the conversation got kicked out every time I planned to put it into a chapter.**

**This conversation is actually harder to write than the rest I did so far – so be nice, at least I tried. Right?**

**Anyways, tell me what you think!**

* * *

Chapter 5

_I wondered, if I could accompany you?_

His words echoed in her mind. What was she supposed to say? How could she talk herself out of it? Éponine didn't really want to walk around the streets on her own, especially since it was getting dark and she was not quite over the shock about what happened yesterday.

But she was sure she rather wanted to be alone than having him walk her home. What could he be wanting to talk about? Giving her a lecture on how to behave? Forcing her to apologize? Wanting her to say thank you? That surely wasn't going to happen.

But what could she say? How could she avoid that? She had to think quickly, the revolutionary was waiting for his answer.

Nothing. There was nothing she could think of that would spare her that conversation.

So she simply nodded.

Éponine started to walk deeper into the side-street, but it took Enjolras only a few seconds to catch up. She quickened her steps as she heard him clear his throat. The faster she walked the sooner this would be over.

"Well, at first I want to apologize.", he started.

_Wait... what? _

"I know it is rude – not knowing the names of those people who come to the assembly. And then I just let you go, alone in the dark and injured. I shouldn't have done that.", he said, with nothing but sincerity in his voice.

_What? _

Éponine didn't understand. Why was he apologizing? Wasn't she the one who was supposed to do that? She had a lot more reasons for it than him. And yet he was the one who said he was sorry. Why? She couldn't make sense of it.

"But are you okay now?", he continued, sounding worried. "Could Joly help you? Those cuts still look painful."

Not only did he apologize, he also had the med student check her wounds? She was nothing but ingrate and cruel to him. Why was he so nice to her then? It just didn't make sense. There had to be a reason, something he wanted from her. A debt she would have to pay...

"I'm fine. It was nothing, really.", she answered. "Why did you ask him to examine me?"

LINE

Enjolras took a deep breath. His headache was as good as gone by now. Maybe the fresh air he used as an alibi did help after all.

"Why wouldn't I? You were injured and he is a doctor. Sort of."

But that didn't seem to be the thing she wanted to know.

"But why did you ask him?", she repeated. "Others wouldn't do that. You have to have had a reason for it."

This took him by surprise.

_Wouldn't they?_

He knew that there was an awful mass of people not caring about anybody but themselves, but there sure are others who would do what he did. This could not be as uncommon as that girl claimed.

"I did it because it was the right thing to do. Just like I said – you needed help and he was the one who could help you."

She looked at him, confused. The girl slowed her pace a little, obviously thinking about something. He wished he knew what it was.

It didn't take long until she broke the silence.

"Then why do you want to take a walk with me?", she asked – looking straight into his eyes. As he stared back he thought he saw some kind of angry gleam flash in them. But it was gone before he was sure he actually saw it.

"Well... I wanted to apologize," he started, but then he shook his head. "I did want to apologize, but most of all I wanted to ask you something. Something about yesterday. Why do you think that the revolution will fail?"

* * *

Éponine froze in place. What was she supposed to say now?

Usually she didn't really care what impact her words had on other people. She just said what she thought. And if she didn't want to answer she just didn't. But now, that was not an option. After all he did she couldn't bring herself to just think about what she wanted. He would get an answer if that was what he wanted.

But what would she tell him? That she didn't mean it? That everything would go as he planned and she just had been hysterical? He would probably believe it. Or the truth. That it would fail. That the people will not fight with them. That they will die alone, abandoned by those they fought for.

What would be the better payment for his kindness – a comforting lie or a devastating truth?

Éponine was never that person that went for a lie to not hurt people. So the truth it was.

As she slowly started to move again she felt his gaze on her, his head cocked with curiosity.

"It will fail, because you will fight alone. The people will not rise."

"But why not? Why wouldn't they. It's their fight. It's for their freedom, for their rights. For a better life. Where everyone is equal. Where – "

"That doesn't matter to them.", she interrupts him. "You don't understand how we think. (This time counting herself to them.) How all other people except yourself think."

"Tell me.", he almost ordered. There was no emotion now, nothing she could read on his face. His face was expressionless as if it was waiting for a command to feel something. She shuddered.

"It's easy, really. Those who live a rather happy life don't care about the less fortunate. They overlook them. To them, we are not even people. Why would they fight for us? And for us others – do you really expect the poor to fight with a couple of bourgeois boys? Students who have no idea of their problems? I don't –"

"But you listened to my speeches.", he cut in on her. "I know about their problems. I have seen them suffer. I have seen what they live through and I know the cause of that. And I will fight this cause." He was standing still now, staring off into some distant horizon only he could see. The perfect statue. Éponine stopped right next to him. Somehow she couldn't take her eyes of that strange revolutionary. It fascinated her how taken he was with his dream. No matter how unrealistic it was.

"So what? Do you really not know the difference between seeing something and living it? All those great words about equality and education and a good future – and all the great evils you condemn – they mean nothing. How are the starving, sick people in the slums supposed to think about such things, when they don't even know how to survive the week. Most of them don't know when they'll get something between their teeth again. We are forced to do things you cannot even imagine. And then you come and speak of equality."

She started walking again. Éponine saw the impact, her words had on him now. The emotionless marble that she saw before slowly disappeared. There was confusion, puzzlement and curiosity in his face now as he furrowed his brows. The mask he wore before was crumbling.

They walked a few minutes in silence. Just until they reached the street the Thénardiers lived in. S_omething like home_, Éponine used to call it. She turned around to Enjolras.

She needed to make sure her father didn't see him. The young student all alone at night in this part of the city was easy prey for him and his gang.

* * *

"Well, I am home now. And you need to go back to the cafe, I suppose."

Éponine's voice woke Enjolras from his thoughts. He wasn't ready to let her go just yet. There were so many questions, he didn't even know where to begin. He needed time to think first.

The girl didn't wait for him to say something. She had just walked a few steps ahead, as he stopped her – grabbing her right upper arm to slow her down. She winced.

That was when he saw the hand-shaped bruise under his fingers. Enjolras loosened his grip.

"Sorry. I haven't seen... Wait. You... That bruise isn't from last night, is it?"

The girl didn't react to his question. She walked away slowly as if not to provoke him to stop her again. The young leader just stood there and watched her leave.

Before she disappeared into the dark, she turned around and found him just where she left.

"Thank you. For yesterday."

Those few words were so quiet he wasn't sure he was actually meant to hear them.


	7. Chapter 6

**I am so so sorry again. (I say that quite often...)**

**It never took me this long to update and I don't even have a good reason. There was just not enough time on some days and on the other days I didn't really feel like I could write that chapter. I guess that's a miniature writers blockade... Looks like someone built a barricade in my head (bad joke, I know...). I really try to update more often now!**

**So I am sorry. I hope you like it anyways.**

**And please review and tell me what you think!**

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Chapter 6

It was early. Dawn was breaking over the roofs of Paris. Most of the city was still sleeping.

But not Éponine.

She had waited for about an hour – silently – her back to the wall of her room – for her parents to go to bed. Now was the safest time to get out of here.

She hadn't slept for long that night. Éponine hadn't been as lucky as he had wished. She had tried to sneak into the house as quietly as possible, but her father caught her on the staircase. They needed her as a lookout that night. It's been two hours past midnight when she finally came back home. That only gave her a little more than 2 hours of sleep.

While she went to bed her parents were celebrating their catch. Which meant lots of alcohol. It still made Éponine shake her head in disbelieve. They would need to steal quite a bit less if they would stop using most of the money from their nightly trips for their drinks.

But Éponine wasn't even sure if her parents didn't do most of their burglaries simply for the thrill of it. The danger, the disguise, all those roles they played... She hated it as much as the Thénardiers loved it. As a child it was funny. She didn't understand what it meant. Now she saw the brutality at some nights. Now she felt the danger of getting caught and being thrown into prison. Now she heard the cries of those who were prey to the patron-minette. They didn't even care anymore if those who they robbed were rich or even poorer than they were. Nothing really mattered to them.

But now she didn't want to think about that. It was time to go. And she didn't go alone. Some of the money they made last night went with her. _It's funny how easy picking pockets gets when those you steal from are in a drunken coma._

She was used to steal from her father. Nowadays it was the only way she would get money to buy some bread. It was either her fathers pocket or the one of some rich looking stranger in the streets.

* * *

An hour later.

The heat of the four loafs of bread she just bought felt wonderful in the early morning chill. It was rarely she had enough money to buy so much food. The baker eyed her suspiciously when she payed her order – obviously knowing that this money was not her own. But as long as he was getting payed it little mattered where that money came from.

She was on her way to her little brother, Gavroche, and his group of friends. She went there as often as possible. There was nothing worse for her than seeing these little kids living in the streets as walking skeletons. None of them were growing to be strong and tall as malnourished as they were. And none of them were to find a good job. None of them would have much of a future. Her brother was only 10 years old.

Gavroche was the leader of a little group of street kids that lived in the elephant at the Place de la Bastille. Napoleon planed a monument there. But as he was canceled from the thrown of France so was his plan for the monument. The only thing left was the model for it, a smaller version of the elephant made out of wood and gypsum on the edge of the place. Since it was abandoned by its builders it was used as a nightly shelter by those kids. About seven of them fitted in there. Sometimes there was one more or one less. A few of those children came and left on a whim. But most of them stayed close to her little brother.

* * *

Gavroche woke up to the smell of warm bread. And before he opened his eyes he knew where that came from.

"Éponine?!"

"Hey there, little brother." He could hear her smile as she said that.

"Everybody wake up! Breakfast time!", Gavroche shouted to wake his friends up. It didn't take long. The moment he mentioned food all of them were wide awake – their stomachs growling in anticipation.

Éponine started distributing the bread among them, handing each half a loaf. The bread was small but fresh, better than what they had most of the week. With the last one she came back to Gavroche and sat down next to him – breaking the last bread in half. He got the bigger one. And didn't even bother arguing that she should take it. They usually would fight for a while and she would win – stubborn as she was. But today he was just too hungry to discuss with her.

"Best wishes from father who so generously payed for this round.", Éponine said before she too began to eat. Gavroche had already stuffed half of his part into his mouth. It took him a moment to swallow all that down. After that he furrowed his brows in concern.

"You shouldn't do that, you know? It's not worth getting caught."

"Let that be my problem. I know when I have to be careful. Anyhow, look at that bread and tell me again it wasn't worth it.", she said with a smirk.

Gavroche looked at her still swollen cheek and the bruises on her arm right next to him.

"It isn't worth it."

* * *

Éponine hated how much of a grown up little Gavroche sometimes sounds just as much as his talent in observing things and seeing those details most people just overlooked. He was so easily unsettled. As she saw the worry in his face she tried to think of something to distract him.

"You're looking good, little one. And so do your friends. You are quite a leader... looking after your friends like that." His face lit up. It was working. "So what have you been up to these last couple of days? I didn't see you around at the cafe?"

"Oh I was spreading the word. Revolution and stuff. Among the children." He was talking with such passion now. And Éponine noticed how he didn't count himself amongst the kids. It was that influence from the cafe. As much as Courfeyrac was his bigger brother, Enjolras became his idol. And she hated the revolutionary for that.

"And how did that go?", she asked – suppressing her anger.

"Good... well, not as good as I wished, but not bad. Courf said that the more I practice the better I will become." His eyes gleamed proudly. "He said that if that revolution takes long enough and I am older I would grow to be as much of a leader as Monsieur Enjolras. And then I can fight for France. Just like I do now."

Oh she was going to kill them for planting those ideas in his head.

She knew about their plans. About the barricade. It was her greatest fear that he might want to partake. That revolution wasn't helping anyone. They would just all going to get themselves killed. And she could not bear the thought of his little body, cold and bullet pierced lying somewhere in the streets. Dead for nothing. He was only a kid. Éponine would not let that happen.

But for now she did not say anything about that. She kept silence and took another bite from her part of the bread. They both ate their food in silence – each of them lost in their own train of thoughts.

"So do you come to the cafe tonight?", Gavroche asked her as he was finished. Éponine swallowed her last bite.

That was actually a good question. Would she go?

There was no reason not to. There was nothing to fear. Everything was just as it was before. But still... that leader of them made her feel uncomfortable. She could not quite see why that was, after all they talked everything out, but there was something odd about him. But that was not enough to keep her away. She would see Marius. And she could spend time with her brother. And most of all she much too stubborn to let him drive her away.

"Yes. I will be there."

Everything was back to normal. She would become a shadow again. Invisible to everyone she did not want to see.

Little she knew.


	8. Chapter 7

**So. I thought I just write a short chapter to let you know that this story is not abandoned. I was just not really motivated and busy. I should stop reading other fanfiction, this just makes me feel like my story is even worse than I thought.**

**I just had really lots of things to do, but this will change by the end of week. Meanwhile I worked on the story outline, so at least I did something, right? And I saw an amazing local production of Les Mis. So many new ideas now! Made me see Marius as a completely different character than before.**

**Plan from this week on: There are going to be at least 2 chapters per week. I might even write more depending on how many other things I have to do.**

**So review this chapter, or the story or just yell at me for being absent for the last month. Whatever comment you leave, its appreciated! And probably makes me write the next chapter a little faster!**

* * *

Chapter 7

Éponine was on her way to the cafe. And it was not only the promise she gave Gavroche that led her there. She was determined to talk to Enjolras and Courfeyrac. About Gavroche. She just hoped he wasn't there yet. Forgotten were all the objections to going to the cafe, forgotten all her plans of staying there unnoticed. She would be noticed. And the others surely wouldn't forget her that easily.

There was a reason for her sudden rage. It happened around noon. In Saint Michele. She had been wandering the streets without any real destination when she came across a tiny boy – he couldn't have been older than 7. He looked terribly malnourished, like the wind might break him into pieces. But yet he was laughing. He was sitting in a corner of the street – singing. It was a satirical song, that boy surely didn't even know what he sung about. He might would have stayed silent if he knew.

The contrast between his laughing happiness and his tiny hungry appearance couldn't have been bigger.

When a patrol came down that street they heard the little boy. They heard him sing a song he barely understood. A very true song against the monarchy. Sung by a little boy. But they didn't see the boy. They only heard the song.

They took him. The kid. That song meant prison. The boy didn't know what happened. He tried to escape. But that only made the soldiers beat him into a bloody unconscious package to be carried away.

An nobody could do anything against it. Nobody tried. Nobody wanted to end like him.

And that little boy could so easily have been Gavroche. Her little brother who dreamed of revolution. Her little brother who was encouraged by those fools at the cafe. Enjolras and Courfeyrac.

As she entered the cafe her anger and determination was more than just visible. One could see the air radiating next to her. And instead of ignoring her presence as they usually did, the students kept out of her way as best as they could. When she reached the the top floor she saw Enjolras and Courfeyrac talk with each other. She couldn't have chosen a better time. Éponine made her way to the table in the corner – an angry smile on her face.

* * *

Enjolras looked up as he heard footsteps coming closer. He had just been talking to Courfeyrac about a printout they wanted to spread among the people. They needed to find someone they could trust, a printer on their side – a loyal accomplice. Courfeyrac tried to find one – unsuccessfully as of now.

It was Éponine who was approaching his table. Good. He wanted to talk to her anyways. This would save him time he would have spend searching for her. His eyes were tired from that days work, he didn't realized how angry she looked. Courfeyrac on the other hand did realize he should better be going. But Éponine caught him with an angry stare and he froze. It was then Enjolras really looked into her face and found all the anger in it. Anger and something else. Fear? Doubt?

"What do you actually thing you're doing?", she started. Her voice wasn't loud, she wasn't yelling. It was more like an angry hissing. But with the force she put in them, every word felt like it was yelled.

"Sorry, I don't know what exactly you're talking about.", Enjolras answered. Courfeyrac just stood there, his mouth wide open.

"Gavroche.", she spat. "He is only a kid. Kill yourself with your rebellion. Kill your friends. But you won't kill that child." That's how she started. She told them the story about the little kid she saw today. The two men stayed silent. Enjolras was impressed. He hadn't thought she was able to deliver such a speech. But it was not only the way she told the story, the story itself was what really touched a nerve. They all loved little Gavroche – his enthusiasm, his humor, his attempts to speak like a leader. Never did they really think he would be in danger. Until now.

"But... but what can we do?", Courfeyrac asked. He had adopted Gav as his little brother. To hear those words from Éponine now immediately called him to action. He wanted to protect his brother. "He will never listen to us saying he has to stay away from the cafe or he has to stop spreading the word of our rally."

"Then make him listen. Trick him. Make him your spy, make him act like he doesn't know about anything. And keep him from whatever you're planning. Make him feel like he has a great part in everything, but give him only safe little jobs." Éponine said. "If anything happens to him, whatever it is, it will happen to you two. And if it was the last thing I would ever do, I make you pay for everything that happens to him."

With that threat still hanging in the air, she spun around and walked to her usual spot – not invisible as a shadow, but burning as bright as a fire.

Enjolras wondered why she cared so much about that kid. He was impressed. He had seen her angry before. But this time it was different. A fire burning in her eyes. A spark in her voice that might ignite the fire of a whole nation. All for a little child. He saw in her a strange reflection of himself.

* * *

**Okay, short chapter ended, but next chapter will be up tomorrow! And it will be a good one!**

**Tell me, what you think!**


	9. Chapter 8

**As promised- the next chapter! Enjoy! It's really short, but the next one will make up for it, I promise. **

**And please please review. I feel like nobody really reads it because I don't get any reviews. :(**

**Anyways, if you read the story please know that I love you dearly!**

* * *

Chapter 8

Éponine slowly calmed down. She was sitting in her corner in the cafe. It felt good to release all the anger that had swelled in her during the course of the day. And she saw the genuine concern in both men's eyes. Allies in her plan to keep her brother safe. Of course she knew she sounded harsh and she shouldn't have talked like that – especially since Enjolras saved her the other night. But Gavroches safety stood above all else.

A few minutes later, Marius entered the cafe. Once again he had this annoying lovesick expression plastered on his face. Éponine sighed as he looked around, settled his eyes on her and took the only other seat in her corner. Her heart fluttered – she felt sick. As much as she wanted him near she wanted him to stay away. He would only start babbling about his love for that bourgeois girl. There was only a glimpse left of the student she fell in love with – the boy who cared.

When they met, she had no friends. There was her brother, yes. And some people she knew from the streets. But no friends. Nobody who really cared about her. No one who would listen to what she had to say. She was irrelevant. She was miserable. And not a soul cared. But then he came along. When he saw she was hurt, he would ask her about it. Sure, she would lie – she would make up a logical excuse. And he would believe it. When he saw she was upset, he would try to cheer her up. When there was a story to tell, he would listen. She was not alone anymore.

Now he was nothing but an empty shell of that boy. A shallow self-absorbed blind puppy who only knew himself and his desires. But she couldn't stop thinking about him. She knew very well that it was not healthy. But she could not stop. The few moments his old self shone through were the ones that held her hostage.

Today there was such a moment. There was not much to tell about his girl, they didn't meet for some reason. Éponine didn't pay much attention. But then for the first time in what seemed forever he looked at her. And he saw her cuts and bruises that were still not healed yet. They looked better, but still not good.

"Éponine what happened to you?"

"Oh... nothing really." Éponine smiled. "Just a little street fight I came across. I got in the middle of it. And then this happened.", she said – pointing at the cut on her cheek.

His eyes examined her swollen face. They were full of concern and pity. As much as she loved that he cared she hated being pitied.

* * *

Enjolras was watching Éponine and Marius talking on the other side of the room. He couldn't read her expression. It shifted from happy to sad to angry and back again. But one thing was quite obvious. She was in love with Pontmercy. And that fool didn't notice.

When there was one among les amis who had no idea of love it was Enjolras. Sure he loved his friends. He loved some of his family. And most of all he loved his dream of France. But that kind of love between a man and a woman was something alien to him. He never thought about it. He had no concept of it. And even he noticed how Éponine was in love with Marius. Blind Pontmercy didn't. Stupid.

He didn't see her the way she was. All the pity as he examined her bruises. There was nothing else he showed. No affection. Nothing.

Enjolras never met his lover but he was sure that she would not stand a chance against Éponine. All the strength in all her action, her fire, how could that compare with a bourgeois girl? His pity for her was pathetic. She wasn't only much more than his love. She was much more than he was. And maybe much more than he would ever be. He didn't understand how she could love someone like that.

As he saw all she was – all little Gavroche was – in his minds eye an idea came to him. Tonights speech would be different.

* * *

**Well? **


	10. Chapter 9

**Okay. Hello to my new followers! You cannot imagine how much I love all of you for reading my stuff! Feel hugged and fed with tons of double chocolate chip cookies!**

**I posted three days in a row! I am pretty sure I won't be able to post tomorrow but I try to upload the next chapter on Friday!**

**This chapter has an Enjolras speech in it. Please imagine this speech is a lot better than I what I wrote. :)**

**And please please leave a comment! Review! Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Chapter 9

Enjolras rose from his seat. It was time for his nightly speech. Actually, it was past his usual time. He had a speech already set when he came to the cafe that night but as soon as the idea for the new one came he knew he had to write it down.

He had scribbled it down like a maniac, as Grantaire had put it.

Usually he talked about the problems with the government and what had to change. And what those solutions would create. His new France. His dream. But not tonight.

Tonight he suddenly knew what he needed to tell them – what he had to tell them. He would tell them some of the reasons he fell in love with this country. And its people.

Tonight he would make them fall in love with this country and its people as much as he already was.

* * *

_Bonsoir, mes amis. _

_As you might expect this speech tonight to be about our new republic or about how to solve the problems we all know about too well you will be disappointed._

_Tonight I will talk about the reason behind our actions. I want to show you what we are doing this for. I know your reasons for participating in this rebellion – in this revolution. I know you've all seen the injustice that is the norm. You've seen little children slowly dying in the streets, sick and hungry. You've seen their mothers selling themselves to save them. You've seen their fathers begging for help. And a lot more. You've seen the corrupted people, the thieves, the drunkards – all of them. Poverty and starvation made some of them forget all concepts of morality they have had before._

_But did you actually ever really look at the people you see? The human beings behind the pity you feel for them? Let me tell you about them for I have looked at them and know some._

_The man who steals the money out of your pocket. He has two children and a wife, all living in the slums. He works as much as he possibly can and still it never seems to be enough. He is frustrated and tired of this life. And yet there is still pride. He is not begging for money. He earned it. He is being payed less than what he deserved so he takes what is his from another mans pocket. And when he comes home with the food he bought with this money – and when he sees his children safe and fed he is happy._

_It is him we are fighting for!_

_And the woman who sells herself. You look upon her with lust or with disgust or with pity. That woman was forced into this. You might say you would rather die than disgrace yourself like that. But would you really? And if she, too, was feeding a family? If her decrease kept her kids alive? Or what if it's paying the medicine for her mother? What would you think of her then? It might not has been her choice._

_It is her we are fighting for!_

_And the little boy who lives in the streets of Paris – all on his own. Stealing and lying his way through life. He is following his human instincts. He is hungry, so he needs food. If stealing any lying are the only ways he gets his mouthful of stale bread he will do it. Would you not? _

_How is he ever supposed to be able to learn what could enable him to get out of the place in society he is assigned to? How will he ever find honest work that brings in enough money to keep a family alive? There is no way out. But does he ever give up? No._

_It is the little boy we are fighting for!_

_And the young girl who struggles through life? She gets raped. She gets beaten. And yet she is unafraid to speak her mind. She is defending herself and others. She has nothing but still she cares about others. She cares more than most other people would do. Because despite stealing and lying and starvation she is a good person. Better than some of us._

_It is her we are fighting for!_

_All you feel when you look at them is pity. Do you want to know what I feel when I look at them? Pride and admiration. I admire their strength. I admire their fierceness. I admire their will to pull through no matter how hard it seems. I admire their choice to keep trying even though giving up would be so easy. And I am proud to be their fellow countryman. I am proud they are part of France._

_Whatever wrong they have done and still do most of them are not to blame! They are good people. Better than those pigs who govern our country. And I want to free them from their struggle. They deserve it. I want to give them the opportunity to live an honest life – to live up to their potential. Without the fear of being beaten or imprisoned or shunned by richer fellows. I want them to forget how an empty stomach feels like._

_They are people just like we are. They feel, they think, they live. From day to day they live. No matter what._

_And so help me God – they will be the kings and queens of the new, the equal France._

* * *

Éponine heard the cheers from les amis as she stepped out of the cafe. Tears were freely streaming down her face now as she was sliding down on the wall of the building. She shadows of the night were hiding her.

_No pity. Admiration and pride._

It was true. Whenever there were people who actually looked at the poor in Saint Michele one could find pity in their eyes. Sometimes some of them used this to earn some money. Make up fake stories. Beg. Marius, too pitied her. Sometimes it was written all over his face. The only real emotion he ever directed to her. And it was enough to fuel her affection for him. Better than anything else she ever got.

_Admiration._

Never ever combined that word with her face. Of course Enjolras didn't mention her name. But just as he started with the first few sentences about the young girl he glanced at her with sincerity in his eyes. It was clear who he was talking about. Gavroche and her could both be found in his speech. And he admired them. Never were the wretched and poor admired. Until now.

She had left the cafe before anyone could see her tears. After Gavroche arrived and told her about the rest of his day, he was with Courfeyrac. He stuck to his adoptive brother like glue. She was alone when the leader held his speech. And it was better this way. Gav would only be worried – he was too young to understand what those words meant to her.

The marble man. Out of all of les amis he was the last one she expected to have such a realistic view on the poor, to feel such empathy. His other topics were different. More analytical. A mathematicians topic. Tonight's speech was the first one that really touched her.

She hadn't felt like that ever since her parents lost the inn. Proud. He made her feel proud of who she was and how she lived her life. Proud and admired.

Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Enjolras had what it takes to rally the people and overthrow the government.

* * *

**So...? How was the speech? I am not even sure if I could write a good speech in my mother tongue but in English. Well, I hope it was somehow bearable and you know what I wanted to say with it.**

**Review please!**

**This has by the way been one of my favorite chapters so far.**

**Review!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Hey there! New chapter. After the one with the crappy speech. Since nobody said something about it I just hope it wasn't too bad?!**

**Okay. Now to more important things: I am currently plotting the next few chapters and because I love all of you quite a lot for reading this story I wondered if you want something special to be included?! Could be a character you especially like, or a phrase or a scene or a song or anything. Just leave it as a review and I try my best to put it into the story, okay? **

**Sound good? Oh and please please tell me what you think about that chapter! Review!**

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Chapter 10

This night, Éponine needed to stay away from home as far as possible. On her way home from the cafe she met Montparnasse who was searching for her. To warn her.

Montparnasse was know in Paris as a part of her fathers gang, the patron minette. But he was much more. Éponine and him first met about half a year after they moved to Paris. They were both children, he only a few months older than her. And yet he was as ageless in his appearance as he was changeable in his character.

Sometimes he looked like the boy he still was, not much older than eighteen. Then he was protective like an older brother, a friend who would protect her with his life. He would listen to her, make her laugh. But then there were those other times. He looked older then with an unreadable expression on his face – something between anger, jealousy and brutality. She shuddered when she thought about those moments. When he wore this expression he could not distinguish between friend and foe. He would hurt her – in inexpressible ways. He would look at her like she belonged to him and to him alone. In those moments she knew the name of a Parisian cemetery suited him.

It was not like he could willingly change between those two parts of himself – putting one over the other like a mask. It just happened. From one moment to another. Two completely different people in the body of an eighteen year old boy. And his second self – the unscrupulous raping thief and murderer was more and more frequent these days.

But today was one of those rare occasions his gently old yet young self showed. He told her to stay away that night. Her father and his gang were planning a robbery a rich peoples neighborhood tonight. Usually they would chose safer but less richly equipped houses. But the place they chose for tonight was rich and in an even richer part of the city. Guards and patrolling police men would be everywhere. The one who usually gets caught first was the lookout. Éponine. She would have to distract the police for as long as it took her father and his gang to flee. Difficult in normal neighborhoods, utterly stupid in the one her father chose this time. It would end in her being caught and taken to prison. Her father would not give a damn about it and she... she would be alone. Behind bars.

So she wandered the streets of Paris. Alone. She will regret it the next time her father crosses her way but she cared little now. It was a rather cold night but the sky was clear and it was full moon. The darkness was not as dark as it was the rest of the month.

Normally her thoughts were with Marius every time she was alone. She would imagine him being with her. Their life together. The little things like waking up to a familiar face, making him smile when he didn't feel like it, knowing there was someone to come home to. She could fill books with the stories that never were and never would be. The book of her imagination – the never ending story of all those who dared to dream.

But tonight she couldn't concentrate. Marius' face was pulled out of her mind from what she heard a few hours ago. As long as there is everything in place imagination was easy. Those words changed the order of her thoughts. Éponine couldn't revive the dream of her and Marius. Because she didn't see him the way she saw him before. She didn't know what to think of it. There was something unsettling about the idea of her and Marius now.

She remembered every moment she spend with him. There was disinterest in his eyes in some, others were full of the love for something that was not her and then there were the ones where compassion and pity were written on his face. Yes. Pity. It never occurred to her before that what kept her thinking he cared about her only was him pitying her. It could be read so clearly in his eyes. And yet she didn't see. Or had not wanted to see. But now the leader and his speech made it obvious. Marius was only pitying her. Not that it changed much of her affection for him but it hurt. Like knives.

Poor and sad people like being pitied. But the miserable ones without much perspective in life didn't – the wretched of the earth knew how pity didn't help them and they were too proud to accept it in the first place. When there is nothing left to take away from them pride became the last thing they clung to. Maybe this was also why Éponine was so thankless and angry when the revolutionary saved her from the rapist. She didn't want his pity. But did he offer it in the first place?

As far as she remembered there was nothing like that in his face when they stood in that dark alleyway. There was concern, maybe anger – but nothing else. He didn't lie when he said he didn't pity.

His words came back to her. Usually his speeches were different. They were academic and analyzing and strictly emotionless. Often she heard his friends tease him to be a marble statue. And until today it seemed to be the truth. Before she thought this attempt at revolution was a little boys dream of war – the glory of the battlefield for some unimportant but good cause. Or that he simply wanted to become part of the history to not be forgotten – a blonde hero with a waving red flag. But she was wrong. It wasn't an act he put on when he accused the government or asked for equality. Those words are empty shells as long as you don't fill them with something. That he did tonight.

He did care about the people. She actually did want everyone to be equal. Because he saw all people as they were. He knew them. He knew her. And yet he was bourgeois. And didn't know what to say to the people to show them what he wanted for them, he didn't know what they needed.

That's where she could help. Éponine knew she could because she was one of those Enjolras needed to convince to partake in the rally. She would try to show him. To teach him. And maybe then she would be wrong and the revolution would succeed. Not a very possible outcome of events but she would do her best.

_Then I could save Marius, _she thought._ And he would see who I am under all the dirt and poverty. And his pity would be replaced by..._ She shook her head. She might be of use to Marius. And to his leader, the blonde young boy who looked like ice talked like a man made of fire.

* * *

Enjolras was packing his things at the cafe. There was not much left to do tonight. After his speech it had been unusually quiet – where his speech was normally followed by discussions based on great books and leaders only silence was to be found. He saw in their eyes they were moved by his words. Not intellectually as usual but emotionally. And they were shocked that their statue could make them feel that way.

The only one who didn't seem surprised was Grantaire who proudly nodded as he finished.

He was not made of marble as they sometimes claimed. Enjolras just never showed his emotion. He never seemed to find to right words for them or the right expression on his face. But as for tonight the words just flew out of him.

He was proud of himself – it might have been and unconventional speech for him to deliver, but it had the right effect. On most of them. Next to proud he also felt shame as he thought about Éponine. He knew she had heard his words because he looked at her when he was referring to her and little Gavroche. Her expression had been blank at first but in the end, as he spoke the last few sentences there was a strange look on her face and tears in her eyes. She had left right after that moment. He obviously had hurt her and felt sorry to have used her for his cause without even thinking about what it might mean to hear.

Enjolras shook his head. _Maybe I am emotionless after all, _he thought to himself.

He took his books and stepped out of the building. It was rather cold that night so he pulled his waistcoat a little tighter around him with his free hand. After leaving the warmth of the cafe everything felt colder than it usually would have.

And as he turned left to go home Éponine stood in front of him.

"I need to talk to you, Monsieur.", she said – her eyes gleaming.

* * *

**So it is kinda late where I live and I am tired, so if there are any mistakes or if something sounds bad I am very very sorry.**

**Oh and Montparnasse is not the guy you find in the brick but rather how I imagined him to be after seeing the musical, the movie and after reading about him in other fanfiction. I hope you are okay with that.**

**And remember to tell me if you want me to include something or someone in the next chapters!**

**Review, mes amis!**


	12. Chapter 11

**Okay. New chapter! I hope you all enjoy.**

**And again: Please review! I haven't got a review in forever! (And I'm kind of sad about that...)**

**Anyways. Conversations are not really my strength so I hope you like it anyways. This chapter will be the starting point for lots of other chapters where Éponine and Enjolras... well... spoilers ;)**

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Chapter 11

_Let's talk._

He still heard those words echoing in his mind. They had walked to the riverbank together and sat down on a bench. There was nothing but silence all the time.

Enjolras wanted to know what she wanted to talk about. What would be so urgent that it could not wait until the next day at the cafe? He didn't know why he followed her in the first place. There was something in her voice... and the determined expression on her face that made her not question it. At least not aloud.

There was still so much he wanted to ask her about her people. This might just be his moment to do so. But first she would have to start. He had an idea what it might be she wanted to talk about. He hoped he was wrong.

The silence. It was awkward. He was nobody who easily interacted with people. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he should just tell her what he... Why did this have to be so hard?

* * *

"I am sorry."

"What?"

Éponine's thoughts were interrupted by the revolutionary. Why did he apologize? Funny how most of their interactions started with him apologizing.

"I shouldn't have been using you in my speech. I'm sure you noticed. I didn't mean to be disrespectful or hurt you in any way. I am sorry if I did." He was staring at his hands on his thighs like a little boy who was caught stealing some candy. He always seemed much older – more mature – than a man his age should. She heard the others talk about that. The students. But right now he looked so young, there was nothing left of the man he was in his speech. All confidence gone. Insecurity and youth on display.

She smiled.

* * *

Enjolras looked at her from the corner of his eyes. He was uncomfortable and needed to see her reaction.

Apparently Éponine was smiling. It was a strange and rare thing to see. He only knew angry or sad or hurt Éponine. This was completely new. And it became her.

"That's not why I wanted to talk to you. You did not offend me. At all. No need to apologize."

Funny how frustrated he looked now he didn't know what all this was about. Éponine would have liked to tease him for a while. Frustrate him even more. Play a little. But there was no time for that now. She needed to discuss a serious matter with him. Better not make him angry.

"Remember what I said about the revolution? How it will fail?"

"Yes. Of course. And everything you told me about why that is. Why?"

"Well... I am not saying I was wrong. But I might know how to change that. To give you the possibility of succeeding."

Éponine looked at him – pleased to see the enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes. He would listen.

"After all those big speeches and great books you read I have expected you to be someone who would like to see his name written in one of them. A history book full of heroes. But you showed to really care. You do, don't you?", Éponine looked at him for a response.

"Yes. Of course I do." Anger flashed over his face for only a tiny second. Barely to be seen in the dim light of night. But his voice showed as as clear as day.

"I thought so. And since it is your wish to free the country and since it may save the lives of people I care about I will help."

* * *

"How so? You cannot fight. You might teach me about your people if you wish to help."

How funny that this was just the favor he wanted to ask from her.

"No."

_What?_ How else could she help him? He didn't know what to say. And she seemed to like it. The amusement was written all over her face. And he didn't know how to respond. Furious. He was furious.

"It's funny how easy it is to disturb or anger you. I will help you. Don't think I won't fight. I will. But that was not what I meant. I cannot teach you how to speak with my kind. But I can show you. I can show you their lives. I can help you live it for a while. See what they see. Feel what they feel. And suffer how they suffer. Your speech this night was good. Great even. I wonder what you might speak of after you have not just seen but lived like the poor."

* * *

There was nothing. No objection to it. It was brilliant. The idea. He was astonished. Not only did he for the first time realize how sophisticated she was despite her appearance. This was also the best way to get closer to those he fought for.

"Thank you." Enjolras said. And the man of marble took her hand and squeezed it as to show his gratitude. It was not customary. It happened instinctively.

And he felt a warm feeling spreading from his fingers throughout his body.

_Gratitude,_ he thought.

* * *

**Well? **

**I know it's a short chapter. Sorry for that. But I need to sleep now. Work tomorrow.**

**Review and tell me what you think!**


	13. Chapter 12

**Hello again! My thumb is a lot better so now I can type a lot more! Woohoo?**

**I hope you enjoy the following chapter! It's the starting point for a lot of Enjolras-Éponine time. With a lot of things to be revealed. By both of them. Ahhhh I am so excited for you all to read the next few chapters!**

**Oh, and thanks a lot to my wonderful guest reviewer! I was actually tearing up a bit reading the review! Have a billion imaginary double chocolate cookies for that!**

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Chapter 12

Enjolras was done packing. He didn't need much. In fact he might need some other things but he couldn't take too much with him. He went to Saint Michele incognito. Éponine had told him he could always return to his flat during the nights whenever he needed something. But they both know he wouldn't.

There wasn't much he planned on taking with him. A little money for an emergency. A book to read. And... his talisman. He usually kept it in his apartment but he thought it would be the right thing to take to Saint Michele. A place it looked familiar. A place it belonged.

He had talked to Combferre and Courfeyrac about his intention to live in Saint Michele for a while. They decided it could not be longer than a week. The revolution needed him. There was so much to plan. Their leader was needed. The others didn't know. The less people knew in less danger he would be to reveal himself in Saint Michele.

The others were told his family had sent for him. A matter of some sort of business. Nobody asked. Nobody wanted to know.

Éponine wanted to get him out of this fancy part of Paris and into Saint Michele unnoticed. They needed to leave early for that. The people in Saint Michele would be awake anyways but all the people who knew Enjolras would be fast asleep. And they needed to get his disguise ready. _Costume_ she had called it.

She said she would come and get him when the clock struck four. But that was some time ago. She didn't seem like someone who would show up too late. He wondered why she was not there yet. Did she change her mind? Maybe she didn't want to have him in Saint Michele after all.

Then he thought back to the night he found her in the alleyway.

_Or did something happen to her?_

* * *

Éponine knew she was late. She hurried down the street as fast as her sore body could. She hoped the revolutionary wouldn't ask why she didn't arrive earlier. She didn't feel like talking about it. She never did. And she was too tired to prepare a cover story.

When her father realized that some of his money was gone – money Éponine took for the bread she bought Gavroche and his gang of little street kids – he knew it had been Éponine who took it. There was nobody else around that night who could have taken it. She should have been more careful. He did not beat her this time. He simply wanted his money back. And he was charging interest.

And he would not wait until she stole what she owed him. _Where would be the fun in that?, _was what he used to say. He sold her for this night. To one of those drunk bourgeois man wandering through Saint Michele looking for easy lay. The man payed her father and dragged her along.

She had tried to run. She always tried when they payed in advance. Sometimes she would get out. Sometimes – like this time – she didn't. He threw her back into his room and locked the door until he was done with her.

She was covert in bruises so she needed to go to her parents place and get her old scarf to cover them. She didn't want Gavroche to see. And she didn't want to answer questions. So she was late that night. About half an hour she assumed as she stood on his doorstep and knocked. Four times.

* * *

Enjolras heard the knocking and opened the door. Finally, there she was.

But something was different about her. If he had not seen and talked to her before he would have called it shyness. She didn't look him in the eyes like she usually did. There was no joy or anger or enthusiasm in her eyes. Just nothing. She was expressionless. It worried him.

"Éponine, is everything okay? You look ..." Thankfully Éponine interrupted him there. He wouldn't have known what word to use to describe it.

"Yes. I'm fine. We need to get you ready." She pushed him aside and entered his apartment.

Her voice somehow didn't match her face.

_She is acting, _Enjolras thought. Something is wrong. But how could he help her when she won't say anything? He needed to think of something.

Meanwhile Éponine had examined his clothing – the clothes he wore and those he had put on his couch to take with him to Saint Michele.

"This is your worst?"

"Well... yes. Is something wrong with that?"

"Just look at them. Not very convincing. Maybe old-fashioned enough. But too clean. And … just wrong. How can you not see that? We need to get those dirtier – and maybe rip it apart on the sleeves. Then it might work. And you. You are too clean, too. Is there some sort of courtyard attached to the house?"

"Uhm. Yes."

"Good. I need your clothes. I will go down and try to make them as dirty as possible. You need to get some dirt on, too. But not in the courtyard. Someone might see you. I will get some of it back upstairs when I am done."

He nodded. It was so strange to see her talk like always with this unusual expression on her face. He would find out what's wrong. And help. That was what he thought as he retreated to his bedroom to get out of his disguise clothing so she could take them downstairs.

* * *

Éponine didn't take too long. She threw the clothes into the dirt and dragged it a few steps along before she rubbed it over some sharp looking stones in the corner of the yard. Now with some holes and the dirt it should be convincing enough. She ripped the end of one sleeve apart. _Good enough, _ she thought. And did the same to his other set of clothes.

They would have to hide them somewhere. Otherwise somebody might steal his bundle and they would have to do this all over again. But with some of his finer clothes. What a waste.

She went upstairs again and handed him his clothes so he could change back into those again. A few minutes later he came out of the bedroom again. Still too clean.

"Take the other set of clothes and rub it in your face and on your arms. You need more dirt. Poor people have no bathtub."

Without a word he turned back around and walked back into his bedroom. Strange to see him obey her orders without further argument. But she was the expert here so what else could he do but listen to her?

As he came back this time it looked much better. Less like acting poor and more like really being without any kind of money.

"Okay. Now we're nearly done. Your hair needs to be more tousled. And as long as you don't have any kind of holey shoes around you will need to go barefoot."

As he sat down to get out of his shoes he opened his mouth and closed it again. As if he wanted to say something but did not quite know how to put it into words.

"What is it?"

"Well... When I live in Saint Michele I need to know what awaits me there, right? You will be there to help, I know, but you will have to answer me questions to understand."

"Yes. Of course."

"Then answer me one thing. Whatever happened to you – was that the same man who left the hand-shaped bruise on your arm?"

* * *

Enjolras was sorry to ask. He was even more sorry when he saw the horror and hurt wash over her face. It only lasted a second, but he did see it. And to him it seemed like an eternity. But he needed to ask. He must know what awaits him there. And how he could help. He needed a plan if he wanted to help and also stay in his role there.

"What does that matter?", she asked back – again with her expressionless mask put on her face.

"Well, I must know what awaits me there, mustn't I? From whom I should stay away?"

Éponine thought about it for a few seconds. Then she obviously decided he was right because she decided to answer his question.

"When I tell you to hide or to stay away from me you will have to do that. You have to listen to me. I know dangerous people. People who must not know who you are."

"Those people who hurt you?"

"Yes."

"Who was it? Who did this to you?" She would answer him now, he knew it.

"The leader of the Patron Minette." Of course he knew that name. Lots of people in Paris knew that name. And feared it. But that did not prepare him for the next thing she said.

"My father."

* * *

**It's been a very doctor who filled week for me so I just had to make her knock four times. :) I hope you don't mind!**

**Anyways please please review! I rarely get reviews and I really want to know what you think!**


	14. Chapter 13

**Okay! Next chapter!**

**But before it starts a huge thanks to Audrey for her amazing review! Thanks! Have a million double chocolate cookies! **

**About the Enjonine kiss: my Éponine is currently still somehow in love with Marius BUT this week with Enjolras might change quite a lot. **

**If everything goes as I plan it there will be a chapter for every day of their week together in Saint Michele. With quite some stories they tell each other. So excited for this! Ahhh! **

**But this chapter is – I am so sorry – boring. Before anything happens they need to get to Saint Michele first. I hope you enjoy it anyways! And please please review! I am happy-dancing whenever I get a review and this needs to happen a little more often.**

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Chapter 13

Both of them went through Paris in silence. They were making a detour, Enjolras knew that but he didn't know why. After her revelation he hadn't known the right thing to say so he simply stayed silent. To break this silence now for such a question seemed somehow inappropriate to him.

So her father was the leader of the Patron Minette. He saw him a couple of times. But more than that he had heard about him and his gang. And it did not match at all with what he thought he knew about the girl leading him into the unknown.

The Patron Minette was a gang of thieves and murderers. They did not care who their victims were. They were merciless. He was sure that not all the stories he heard were entirely true but those men had to be dangerous to gain a reputation like that. When her father was their leader... well what then? He did not believe in stereotypes. But to be so different than her upbringing must have been...

_But what if she was not so different than her father after all?, _he thought. He knew nothing about her. And yet he trusted her to bring her to Saint Michele in the still dark morning hours. It could easily be a trap. The Patron Minette behind the next street corner waiting for him. But somehow he knew it wasn't. How could she have acted so convincingly around all the students at the cafe? The way she looked at Gavroche or at Marius. It couldn't all be an act. And therefore he trusted her.

After all this walking around barefoot his feet started to hurt. Be felt every stone he stepped on. And his clothes started to itch. He never cared too much about his clothes. But this was uncomfortable. Enjolras had not expected this to be such a bother to him. In fact he had not even thought about it. Sure, during the cold winter months he thought about the lack of clothes for the poor. Now he already wished his clean clothes and shoes back.

Of course he would not tell Éponine. To her it must seem like nothing at all. She was used to this.

_What a shame that people have gotten used to this when the rich had more clothes than they needed._

Funny how he always thought about the big problems like the lack of education and sicknesses in the slums when there were thousands of little problems. Sure, most of them were symptoms of those bigger ones but that did not make them less problematic. Or less hard for the people.

Very slowly he began to understand what Éponine had meant when she said that the people do not care about his speeches about all the great evils and how to fight them. And this was only caused by a minor thing like the lack of shoes and dirty clothes in tatters. Little those meant to the poor.

"Wait here.", Éponine said and with that interrupted his stream of thoughts.

* * *

Éponine had told him to stop. She wanted to check the alley on their right on her own at first. She was more quiet than him and smaller. Most times she could see other people without being seen by them if she wanted. That was why he father wanted her around for some of their nightly forays.

In a corner in that alley were some loose bricks. A good hiding place for the little bundle of thing the revolutionary took with him. It was still quite some way away from Saint Michele but she learned early that it was not quite the best idea to hide things where lots of people wanted to find something. So many were sleeping in the streets that they eventually just find what you hide. So she led him to her most reliable hiding place. She took her things out a few weeks ago. Now it was empty and waited for the more valuable things the revolutionary had to offer.

She wouldn't have been too surprised if he had wanted to stay at home after she told him who her father was. Lots of people rather not be associated with her. She wondered what he thought about that now that he knew. They had not spoken a word since they left the apartment. For now she had to stop thinking about it. She needed to focus now.

Silently she entered the little, dark alley. She searched even the darkest corners for somebody hiding or sleeping but it was completely empty.

_Good, _she thought. And called Enjolras over to her and showed him her little hiding place.

"You probably need to check on it a few times. I cannot promise your things are safe here. There is no safe place on the streets to hide something."

She watched as he bent down to hide his little bundle of things. He took one thing out of it. It must have been some sort of necklace for he hung it around his neck. She did not see what it looked like – it was too dark, the first rays of light did not reach down into the small street. What kind of jewelery would a man like him wear?

"What did you just put around your neck?", she asked before thinking about it. To sound less prying she added: "Poor people don't wear jewelery, I hope you thought about that."

"It's nothing of tangible value. A memory, that's all."

She wasn't satisfied at all with his answer but his tone was final and did not allow any other questions. And since he did not force answers out of her she granted him the same favor. Maybe she would get her answer later. She could wait.

* * *

It took them another 30 minutes to get to Saint Michele. Most of the city was still sleeping but there the streets were buzzing with life already. The dark of the night did not cover the peoples hiding places to sleep anymore.

It was a strange feeling – walking around so unnoticed. He was invisible. Usually when he walked those streets the beggars would come over. Others would throw him looks full of loathing as if having money was a crime. How could he blame them? But now there was nothing.

He followed Éponine through a few more streets deeper into the quarter until she suddenly came to a stop and sat down in a doorway and motioned him to do the same.

"For your first day we stay here. It's not one of my usual places but it is better when my people don't see us together. I won't stay with you the whole time. But for the first few days it might be better. We cannot risk you getting all bourgeois here."

There was a little smile for a moment when she said that. She began to look more like herself again – less empty. He decided to use this moment to get to know her more.

"Well, since I am here to learn something tell me about yourself."

"I will tell you a little. But only for something in return. You will tell me about yourself, too."

* * *

Éponine didn't feel much like talking about herself, but if that meant she would learn a little about the mystery that was him she couldn't refuse. And she still could choose to simply not answer the questions she didn't like. She tugged the scarf that covered the bruises on her upper arm around her more tightly.

"But first things first. What you need to know for your stay here. Observe as much as you want, talk to others if you think you can handle it but don't forget that you need to find a place to sleep for the night and you need to get money for food."

"I have money. I took a little with me, it's hidden in that little alley with my other things."

Éponine raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you wanted to learn something about our lives. We don't have money hidden all over town in case we get hungry."

"That was not my intention. Of course I will try to find work."

"You won't. If it were that easy to find a job don't you think we all had jobs? You will either have to beg or to steal. Do whatever you prefer. I would suggest stealing since you don't really look poor enough to attract benefactors."

"I cannot. It's against the law. And how do I know if they are wealthy enough to not miss the money? I cannot take money from people who need it more than I do."

"Believe me, this week you will change your mind about that. As long as you don't want to steal you will have to stay hungry."

He didn't know why this amused her so much but the enjoyment was written all over her face.

"Now back to where we were before. Tell me about you. I mean no disrespect but you are rather educated for a street girl."

"Well – "

* * *

**Okay. Maybe a bad moment to stop but I hope that just makes you more excited for the next chapter? Tell me what you think! Review!**


	15. Chapter 14

**Okay! New chapter! **

**As always: enjoy and tell me what you think!**

**Oh and I changed Éponine's age. I am sorry if you don't like it. But I somehow never pictured her as a 16 year old. And I wanted to stay with the way I always imagined her rather than keeping it canon.**

* * *

Chapter 14

"So, how are you so educated despite your circumstances?", Enjolras asked her.

"Not everybody who lives in the streets has been born there. My family has once been closer to respectable than anyone might guess from where we are now. My parents owned an inn in Montfermeil. Not too far from Paris. We had more than enough to live from. But my father saw that differently. He was stealing from his guests, profiting from anything and anyone with no limit to whats right and whats wrong. Back then I was taught to read and write and most of all calculate. They cared well for us back then. We had everything we wished for. But then – I was about eight years old – the police came. They found out about all his crimes against the guests and closed the inn. He and my mother were lucky to escape before they were thrown into prison. And as soon as spending money on us children limited their life style they stopped thinking about us as anything else but a source to get to money."

Her face that had lit up when she talked about a better past darkened again when she talked about her parents changing into what they were now. Maybe if he asked something about the inn or her early childhood she would feel better again. It had not been his intention to hurt her in any way.

"And how..."

"Stop!", Éponine interrupted him. "It's my turn to ask you something now."

For a second he was speechless. A minute ago he had thought about how to cheer her up but now she did not seem disturbed at all. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Fine. Go ahead."

"What are you studying? Law like Marius?" There was genuine interest in her voice as she asked this.

_What a strange question_, Enjolras thought. Of course it was perfectly normal to ask someone something like that. But with his head full of revolutionary ideas and speeches and plans he sometimes lost his connection to reality. It were moments such as this that reminded him that there was more than this one thing for others. Life.

"Yes.", he answered – still baffled somehow.

"It is hardly fair to answer like this. I gave you a good and long reply and you give me one word. You really should talk more if you expect me to tell you so much about the life here.", she teased him. She really seemed to enjoy it. Especially the confused expression on his face.

_Frustrating_, he thought.

"There is not much to say, really. It has always been the plan. My family did not approved at first, but they changed their mind when I explained them how useful it is for every kind of business. Meanwhile I study law to help the country. How could someone bring change when he does not really understand the system?"

"Since people are the ones who made the system and and still work on it, you might better learn to understand those, too."

Enjolras looked at her in surprise. That was a thought that had never occurred to him before.

* * *

When Éponine had asked Marius as to why he decided to study law he had answered that that has been his families wish. His grandfather did the same. And he simply did what they wanted. Maybe it was because her family was so different than the Pontmercy's and she had no life style that depended on others – but she was sure she would never chose to do something she had no passion for. Not that a woman had much of a choice, let alone a woman of her social rank. But if there was a choice...

She admired the revolutionary for his reason behind his studies. His independence.

"Your turn again.", she told him.

"Why do you care so much about Gavroche? Courfeyrac complimented your energetic entrance the other night."

"Gavroche is my little brother. The only proper kind of family I have. He ran away when he could not stand living with our parents anymore. He was too young to bring in any money on his own but too old to arouse pity in others. So they let him go. But having him not living with us anymore does not mean I suddenly stop caring for him. He is just a kid."

"I should have known. Now that I think about it there is a resemblance between you two. Your mouth is the same, just as your eye color." Enjolras countered matter-of-factly.

"Now me again. How old are you?" She had always wanted to know that. He seemed somehow ageless. Looking younger than his years but speaking like somebody a few decades older.

"Twenty-two. And you?"

"Eighteen."

* * *

Her age did not really surprise him. She looked a little older. But all the poor did as a result of their malnutrition. But she seemed wise beyond her age. All those things she knew he would never learn in all the books of the world.

They asked each other thinks for a few more hours. Eventually their questions became less frequent, but there never was a period of silence that lasted too long.

After a while she asked him about his upbringing – having noted his accent was not entirely Parisian. And he told her about his hometown. The house he grew up in. His sisters. His parents. The servants. The surroundings of the estate. Places he traveled to. People he met. Stories he heard about.

It took him a while to realize that they stopped to alternate with one another and most questions focused on him. He was used to talk a lot. But not about himself. Nobody ever really asked much about his life. And he was not too comfortable with being the topic of a conversation. But with her it was different. It did not seem like self-absorbed jabbering about his wonderful privileged childhood. Her interest in small things about his past made it feel more like reading a story for her out of a book.

* * *

Éponine managed to make him talk more about himself than ask about her. Not only because she did not want to talk too much about herself but also because she genuinely enjoyed listening to him describing things and telling stories. It sometimes felt as if she could see everything he talked about right before her eyes. He saw the Enjolras estate in front of her, his graceful sisters, the trees lining the street towards the house. His class rooms. His professors. Everything.

At some point he must have realized how much he talked himself because he began asking about the people passing them in the street. He wanted to know about what they might work. How they survived. How children are raised without any money.

She might did not want to talk much about herself but somehow she felt hurt because of his lack of interest in her. But who actually cared? It was not much of surprise.

After sitting together without talking – each of them dwelling on their own thoughts – the silence was broken by his growling stomach.

* * *

Enjolras was embarrassed. He could feel his face turning bright red.

_(Sorry, this is not part of this chapter, but I feel like I should tell you what my head is singing to me right now: Red the face of hungry men. Sorry for disturbing the chapter with my not so funny joke. _;)_)_

"You should think about how you get some money, otherwise this won't be the last time we hear that sound.", Éponine laughed. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"Yesterday. In the afternoon."

"Really? You decide to live in poverty for a week and don't think about eating something before?"

_She seemed to enjoy this a little too much_, he thought as he felt his face reddening all over again.

"Well, get something to eat. And don't get caught.", she said – getting up. "I have some business to attend to. And I will stop by the cafe for you and tell you later what you missed. You should meanwhile stay here. This place seems safe enough for your first night here. See you later."

And with that she left him on his own. He sat there on his own and observed the people around him. He would not steal. As time passed and his hunger grew it started to look like it might be raining later.

_Brilliant, _he thought to himself. _Just what I needed for my first night without a roof over my head._

* * *

When Éponine returned that night she found Enjolras dozing off in the same doorway she left him. In the pouring rain.

_Stupid boy, _she thought to herself and laughed. She laughed even more when his stomach growled again. This time her laughter was waking him. He looked miserable with his wet, tousled hair, the dirt on his face, still half asleep. Sitting in the rain. She shook her head.

"Come on, we find you a place that is a little less wet. What were you thinking – staying in the rain like that? There are archways, larger doorways and small alleys that stay rather dry."

He grumbled something she did not understand. Much to her amusement.

It did not take them long to find a small place in an archway that was not occupied. As he wanted to lay down and sleep again he hold him back.

"I fear you have to stay awake a few more minutes, _monsieur_.", Éponine said as she took some bread and wine out of a bag that hung around her small shoulder. "I knew you would not steal so I thought tonight I would bring some food."

Even though his eyes were gleaming like the bread and half empty bottle of wine was food worthy of a king, he did not touch it. "It is stolen, isn't it?"

"Well, yes and no. The bread is bought with money I stole from my father. Even you will agree that stealing from him is not much of a crime. Especially since I am his daughter and this is the only way I ever get something from him. And the wine is taken from Grantaire. After everything he drank so far he won't miss it. He did not even realize it was gone. He just shrugged when he could not find the bottle and got a new one."

And with half-stolen food, as Éponine called it later, the revolutionaries first day in Saint Michele ended better as most of her own days on the streets.

* * *

**Woohoo! Longest chapter so far.**

**And again: I am very sorry for the bad joke in the middle of this chapter.**

**What do you think? Please please review!**


	16. Chapter 15

**Sorry, I meant to update earlier but everything is just a little crazy right now. I'm busy with my side job. Then I had to write an essay that is due tomorrow. And I am moving into a new apartment on Friday. I am constantly freaking out about that in every kind of way. And I felt really sick on Sunday. Crazy. **

**Whatever. So here we go with chapter 15! I hope you enjoy it more than I do. I am not so sure about this one. **

**Oh and thanks and a million double chocolate cookies to the guest reviewer and to moonlitwanderer for reviewing! Two reviews for one chapter! Haven't had that in a long time! Woohoo!**

**So here it goes.**

* * *

Chapter 15

Enjolras woke up hungry. He didn't get much to eat last night. And it had been his only food that day. He never really ate much. How often had Joly reminded him that he needed to eat on a regular basis? But that did not compare to this. But he thought he should be thankful he at least got anything. Others on the street didn't get anything yesterday. And they needed it even more than him.

Now he felt bad for even thinking about his own growling stomach.

He wondered what they would do today. Yesterday, Éponine hinted that today would be different, not sitting in the street just watching.

He would like to ask her but it was still night. Everybody was still sleeping. Just like the small figure next to him. Enjolras couldn't fall back to sleep. He was exhausted before so he just fell asleep where he was. But now his hungriness kept him awake. Just like the lack of a bed. However he turned, wherever he lay himself down – there was always some stone or sharp edge underneath him. It was annoying. He even had a headache since he was not used to such a hard ground.

He sighed as he sat up and leaned his back on the wall across from Éponine. As he watched her fragile body breath evenly in deep sleep he thought about her and her life. The few things she told him and the many things he still wanted to know.

Later he would not be able to tell when it was he closed his eyes and dozed off into a day dream. Not quite awake but neither asleep. Just imagining.

* * *

Éponine woke up early. After a short moment to orientate herself she looked around for Enjolras. _Hadn't he slept a few steps next to her? _She found him sitting with his back to the opposite wall. Eyes closed and a very small smile on his lips.

But not quite sleeping. His breathing was not even enough. One of the things she knew – when a person was sleeping. There were so many people who were tricked into a false sense of security by thieves that were pretending to sleep. Her father did that too from time to time.

"Morning.", she said and with that woke him from his dream. "So your first night on the streets. Did you sleep well, monsieur?" She was mocking him.

"Yes. Thank you.", he answered. But the lie was so obvious that both of them could not help laughing silently.

"Well, you look well rested. But you might need an extra pillow tonight. You should call a servant to take care of that." She could not let this opportunity to make fun of him go.

"Yes. I will sent for one immediately. But first I need my coiffeur. I cannot leave my room like this."

Did he just make a joke? An actual joke? The marble statue?

"Did you just... I mean... You are so different than usual?", Éponine stuttered. She could hardly believe what she just witnessed.

"I am a human being after all. In the cafe I just show one facet of me. The revolution is a serious matter. There is no place for jokes. And since I am the leader of it I need to be serious to be taken seriously. This is not simply a game. But that does not make me inhuman. I am just like everybody else. _You_ never really seemed so talkative when I saw you in the cafe. You talked to Pontmercy but not so much. You listened more than you talked. And yet you can talk. You can give quite impressive speeches when you are angry. Nobody is just what he appears to be."

She nodded absentmindedly. And stayed silent.

* * *

Enjolras wanted to break the silence somehow. They both had been so free and comfortable before and now his speech ruined that. He had a talent for getting all serious in moments like this and spoil good moments.

"Well... what have you planned for today?"

"Today I need to work. Well. Steal some money that is. You can come along and watch if you like."

He thought about it for a moment. He felt uncomfortable somehow. He had a strong sense for justice. But he knew the poor had to steal to stay alive. And he came to Saint Michele to learn more about their lives.

"You really don't need to, if you don't want. And if you come along I promise you don't need to steal too. You just watch."

"Okay." And on command his stomach growled. Éponine laughed.

"Breakfast time." And she took out the rest of the bread and threw it over to him. He waited for her to take out some bread for herself but she didn't.

"What about you?"

"What about what?"

"Why don't you eat anything?"

"Oh. I already did. While you were dozing over there. I was hungry and thought you were asleep."

"Oh. Okay.", he shrugged and began eating his bread.

* * *

Of course she didn't eat anything. There was nothing left. But she didn't need much food. She was so used to feeling hungry that she didn't feel the need to eat something right now. She had just eaten last night. That would last on for a while. He on the other hand was not used to it. He felt sick. She remembered her first days without food. She was still very young then. But it's nothing you easily forget. He needed it more than her so she gave it to him.

"Do you always sleep in the streets or do you have a place to stay?", Enjolras asked her after taking the first bite.

"Yes. My parents have a small apartment. There is a small room they don't use. I stay there for the winter. In summer I just stop by and stay in the streets for the nights. There is no real difference between sleeping on the ground here or sleeping on the ground there. At least the company is more bearable."

He nodded as he chewed.

"Well. However. I need to leave you now. I have to go see Gavroche today. One of his kids got lost and he asked me to help find him. I will come get you later. Then we will leave Saint Michele for a bit and work. You either watch the people again or you talk a little. Make up some story how you ended up here and tell it. They'll tell you theirs surely afterward. Okay. See you later."

And she left before he could say another word.

* * *

Enjolras decided to watch some more for today. He was not quite sure if he was already able to talk like them. He lacked the accent and the word order and the choice of vocabulary that would let him talk like one of them. He payed closer attention on that and tried to memorize everything.

It was noon when Éponine returned.

"Ready to leave Saint Michele?"

"Sure."

They left Saint Michele for a richer quarter. They talked about safe areas the day before. Éponine knew where the people lived who knew Enjolras, where the other students stayed and where his courses took place. They called them the 'red areas' since this was his color. He thought it funny and in the same time he had to admit he liked that. Those red areas didn't leave much choice where to go now.

Enjolras stood in the shadow of a building just in case anyone he knew was there anyways. He watched her 'work' as she called it. He really needed to concentrate and stay focused to see what she was doing. There was nothing suspicious about her. Just a street girl walking by. The street was rather small so when a group of people passed by they naturally stood closed together than usual. She could easily take their money out of their pockets than. The way she did it – there was something rather graceful about it.

Sometimes Éponine would come over to him and explain something. Three times they changed the street. A precaution, she had explained. If someone notices their money is gone they might remember her and call the police into the street.

This went on for a few hours. It was late afternoon when she stopped. He wondered how much she stole already.

"How much did you get?"

She emptied her bag of money that she collected today. As he saw the money it was clear that this was more than enough to eat from for a few days.

"Tomorrow we will no the same thing again."

"Why? This money seems like its enough for the rest of the week."

"Well. First I have not only to eat myself but get something to eat for you too. You won't steal and I cannot let the leader of the infamous amis de ABC starve to death, can I?" she asked with a wink.

He laughed.

"And there is a reason why I call it work. The most of it – well, basically everything- lands in my fathers pocket. And I need to get that money to him now. I will come back this evening. Stay in the street with the doorway we slept in yesterday. I come find you there. Me and a loaf of bread for the starving young Apollo."

And she was gone again.

* * *

It was past midnight when Éponine arrived at Enjolras place for the night. Her father had kept her home. He had needed her as a lookout for this night. He had chosen a rich looking house. On a whim. Without spying on it first. There was not much of worth they could take with them. And since he was drunk and disappointed he needed someone to symbolize his failure. And beat it. And that someone was her.

She remembered blacking out after a while. She was rather happy that her bruises were on her ribcage and her legs. That way Enjolras wouldn't notice. And she wouldn't have to explain.

"Dinner, monsieur?", she asked as she took out the bread.


End file.
